


Running Over Thoughts

by FullOnLarrie



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Beach, Alternate Universe - Small Town, Anal Sex, Brunette Niall, Complete, Enemies to Lovers, Exes, Exes to Lovers, Harry is 21, Hate Sex, Hate to Love, Louis is 22, M/M, Minor Injuries, Miscommunication, Running, Smut, Sort of? - Freeform, but everyone's ok, followed by communication, hospital mention, sort of
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-15
Updated: 2016-10-15
Packaged: 2018-08-22 15:12:50
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,403
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8290483
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FullOnLarrie/pseuds/FullOnLarrie
Summary: Harry returns to the beach town where he grew up, only to find that his ex-boyfriend Louis has moved back too. Co-starring Liam as the best friend and roommate that Harry could ask for.  Featuring brunette Niall.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Extra special thanks to [Nic](http://www.louandhazaf.tumblr.com) The best beta in the world and a wonderful friend.  
>    
> [Come chat with me on Tumblr!](http://www.fullonlarrie.tumblr.com)
> 
>    
>  **If you’d like to translate any of my fics, feel free, but please post the translation on ao3, and send me a link so that I can include it in the author’s notes.**
> 
> **Please do not post this fic or any of my other fics on any other websites.**

Friday mornings suck. Harry gets up ten minutes before he has to be at work. He doesn't shower. There's no need when he'll be in and out of the ocean all day. He does brush his teeth because he doesn't want to inflict that much nastiness on anyone, even if they are just tourists here for the week. Anything to tilt the scale in favor of a big tip. He takes a piss, then walks out to the kitchen buck naked to pour himself a cup of coffee and grab a banana. He takes his coffee onto the porch where he pulls on a pair of yellow swim trunks that are slightly damp, even though they've been hanging over the porch railing all night. He eats his banana in three bites, chugs his coffee and sets the mug on the railing; he'll get it later, probably. He slips on his flip flops, shoves his sunglasses over his eyes, pulls on a beat up old snap back, hops on his bike and rides to the beach. 

Harry’s only three minutes late for work, which is about seven minutes earlier than anyone else when they're on the opening shift. He pulls open the door to the hut and then props up the two main windows that let the breeze in and double as the customer service area. He checks the equipment—bikes, surfboards, boogie boards, kayaks, paddleboards and paddles. He counts the drawer to the cash register. Everything looks good. He reaches for the giant bottle of sunscreen and starts applying it, head to toe and extra on his face, ears and the back of his neck. He burned the shit out of his neck the first day after he got his long curls cut short. Once he's done, he drags his chair out into the sand, flops down into it, pulls his hat over his eyes, and falls asleep. 

“Harry!” His arms and legs flail as Liam rudely wakes him up. He flips Liam off, settles back down in his chair and closes his eyes. 

“What, Li? I'm sleeping.”

“Customers, man.”

“You take ‘em. I opened this morning. Fucking Fridays.” And he goes back to sleep.

An hour or so later and it's too busy and too noisy for Harry to nap. He joins Liam in the hut and turns on the two big fans by the front windows. “I don't know why you always leave these off. It's hot.” 

“It's bearable.”

Harry snorts. “You're ridiculous, Li.”

It's officially the height of summer tourist season. It's business for the hut and money for Harry, but it's also almost 90°F every day. 

Liam and Harry spend the rest of the morning helping customers—renting their equipment out for the day or by the hour. By eleven, Harry is ready for a break. 

“Be back in a minute, Li.” Harry drops his sunglasses and hat onto his chair and runs. He doesn't remember how old he was when he first did it, just knows that he's always done it. He sprints for the ocean, so fast that his legs burn, and he doesn't slow down when his feet hit the water. He keeps running, as fast as he can, until he falls down. He splashes wildly, then sinks under the surface. He holds his breath until his lungs burn, then stands up and shakes the water from his hair, turns around and looks at his beach. He's called it that since he was a child. His beach. The waves crash into his back and he leans into them to stay upright. He waits for a good one, then catches it and bodysurfs back to the shallow water. He walks back to the hut. 

Friday mornings suck, but Friday nights are Harry's favorite. Because he opens the hut, he gets off early, giving him time to nap in the hammock on his porch before he showers and gets ready to go to the bar. He gets a good hour of sleep before the hammock starts rocking. “Fuck off, Liam.”

“Get your coffee mug off the railing and get your ass in the shower unless you want me to shower first.”

Harry rolls out of the hammock and onto the floor. He's yet to find a way to exit a hammock gracefully. He showers quickly and steals a spray of Liam's cologne. He needs to pick someone up tonight. Summertime means tourists and tourists mean easy lays, at least most nights. He goes for his ‘hot local’ look tonight—red Hawaiian shirt with most of the buttons undone, dark blue skinny jeans, and brown boots. He sits on the porch with a beer while he waits for Liam to finish getting ready. 

They always get to the bar early on Fridays for free chicken wings and cheap draft beer. As soon as they finish eating, they're ready for shots. The bartenders know them well and have their tequila lined up and waiting. Lick it, slam it, suck it. Harry has the t-shirt. Now, it's time to start looking. There's live music on Fridays and the tourists pour in for it. The band plays nothing but covers of old music from the 60s and 70s, and they're decent enough. He stays on his barstool, his elbows propped up in the bar behind him. He knows he looks good. He waits. As the bartender hands him another beer, Liam says, “You're looking awfully hard for something, H.”

Harry winks at him, tips his head back, and takes a pull from his beer. He's already found what he was looking for and it's headed right for him. 

A tall, tan, man with long blonde hair wedges himself between Harry's barstool and the one next to it and signals to the bartender. “Two shots of Patron.” He turns to Harry and offers one to him.

~~~~~~~~~~

Harry groans. He can hear his phone alarm but it's muffled and he wants to throw it out the window. 

Fuck. Tequila. Fuck. 

He rolls onto the floor, narrowly missing a used condom, and feels around under the edge of the bed until he finds his phone. He doesn't throw it out the window, but it's a close thing. He's sick almost as soon as he stands up, though he makes it to the toilet. Barely. He climbs into the tub and turns on the shower to wash over him as he sits there feeling like absolute shit. Eventually he makes his way to standing and attempts to wash the taste out of his mouth. He brushes his teeth three times, but the phantom taste lingers. Today is going to suck balls. 

He stumbles out of the bathroom, still dripping wet and completely naked, to find that his bed isn't empty. Shit. He shakes the guy's shoulder. Matt? Mike? “Hey, man, wake up.” He shakes him harder. The guy groans and rolls over. “Hey. Dude. Hey!” The guy finally opens his eyes. “You gotta go, man. I've got work and you have to get out. Thanks for last night.” Harry gives him a quick nod and goes looking for a cup of coffee and his swim trunks. 

A few minutes later, the guy stumbles out of the front door, pulling his shirt over his head, and climbs into his car. From his perch on the picnic table, Harry lifts a hand as the man drives away. He leaves his coffee cup on the picnic table, and takes off on his bike. He's late for work.

~~~~~~~~~~

“You look like shit.” Liam says as Harry walks into the hut. 

“Always do on Saturdays, Liam.”

“Well, today especially. Keep your sunglasses on. Customers don't need to see that.” He waves a hand in a circular motion around Harry's face. 

Harry pulls out his phone to look at himself in the front facing camera. “Ugh. Gross.” There are busted blood vessels all around his eyes. His face looks bruised. All from puking. He bends over and rests his head on the edge of the counter. “Fuck.” He takes a couple of deep breaths and goes back to work. 

Luckily, Saturday mornings are always a bit slow. Last week’s vacationers have to check-out by ten, but this week’s don't check-in until four. The afternoons are little busier with tourists who come straight to the beach before check-in. Harry makes it through the day without being sick again, though he has to take more breaks than usual and he doesn't run into the ocean today. He walks, ducks under a wave to wet his hair, and then floats. He feels the cool water as it laps against his skin and smells the salt air. 

After closing, he bikes home and passes out in the hammock. He wakes up a few hours later to find Liam cooking burgers on their tiny charcoal grill. “Hey, man. I'm sorry about today.”

“No need. You came to work, you did your share. We're okay.” But Liam's tone is cool. 

Harry falls out of the hammock, stands up and stretches. He spies the morning’s coffee mug still on the picnic table and takes it to the sink. He cleans the kitchen and living room while Liam grills burgers. He knows that lately he’s been a shitty friend and roommate and a part of him wants to hide in his bed until the guilt disappears. But he doesn't. He joins Liam at the picnic table with two glasses of ice water. “I _am_ sorry. I'm going to avoid the bar for a while. Drinking all together, probably.”

Liam sighs. “It's not the drinking, Harry. Well, not just the drinking. You're, um, well, you're a miserable bastard lately. Ever since you came home. I don't know why you're here if you're so unhappy. Should've stayed in California.”

Harry's swallows around a lump in his throat. “I missed it here. California was great, but it's not home. I was miserable there too. And in Colorado before that. And New York. Fuck.” He drops his head into his hands. “I think… I am happier here. I love it here. Love you. Love my mom and my sister. I've just, I think I've been doing the same thing over and over because it's easier.” Easier than thinking about why he left in the first place. 

Liam looks at him and takes a bite of his burger. 

Harry closed his eyes. “I've only been home for a couple of months. I think maybe I needed, I don't know, I feel like I've been hiding or something.” 

“And that means getting wasted almost every night and bringing home random strangers to fuck—incredibly loudly, by the way—and either being a total asshole to them in the morning or leaving them here for me to deal with? I mean, fuck whoever you want, however you want, but be considerate about it.”

“I'm sorry. I'm really, really sorry, Li. Today was like… a wake up call or something. I couldn't remember that dude's name for the life of me. I don't even remember fucking him. Used condom says I did though.”

Liam raises his eyebrows. “Ought to get tested regularly anyway, H.” He gets up from the picnic table and goes inside the house. 

Harry follows him into the kitchen. “This isn't something… it's not. I'm not like an addict or something. Coming home? Being here? It’s messing with my head. I was miserable in California; I was running, though, and I didn't drink like this. Colorado, too. It's just here. Adjusting. I'm, um, going to run tomorrow morning.” Harry looks down at his feet and offers, “You want to come?”

Liam punches him in the shoulder, just hard enough to hurt. “I run every morning, asshole. Up at six.”

~~~~~~~~~~

He makes it a habit. They don't run together every day, but Harry makes it a point to get up early every morning with Liam. When Harry runs by himself, he runs directly to the hut afterward. 

He feels like he's let go of something that was holding him back. He feels lighter. 

Harry likes to run the beach before sunrise. It's like meditation. He runs with an empty mind, his feet pound into the sand, his chest rises and falls in a rhythm. 

He turns his head slightly to the right to watch the sun come up over the ocean. The light bounces off the water and it’s beautiful, but it makes it difficult to see. He blinks. He’s sprawled on the ground. There’s sand in his face, pain in his elbows and knees and he’s tangled up with something. Someone. A man. He mentally checks himself for injury as he scrambles to his feet. There's no real pain, just scrapes from the fall. 

“I'm so sorry! I wasn't paying attention. Are you alright?” Harry offers a hand up to other man. “Oh. Fuck.” 

“Yes. Fuck. Exactly. What the hell, Harry?” Louis’ voice has the same lilting, unforgettable rasp. 

Louis. His ex-boyfriend Louis. “Hi?”

“Hi?” Louis mocks. 

“I said I was sorry. I _am_ sorry! I didn't mean to run into you; I was watching the sunrise. I wasn't thinking…”

“Of course you weren't.” Louis snaps as he brushes the sand from his hands. “Bye.” And he runs off in the direction he'd been going before their collision. 

“Nice running into you!” Harry calls after him, laughing to himself. Louis flips him off over his shoulder without slowing his stride. 

Harry kicks off his shoes and peels off his socks and runs into the water. He makes it to mid-thigh before he splashes down. He laughs as he goes under, but frowns as he floats on his back. Louis. Louis is back in town. Shit.

~~~~~~~~~~

“You never told me what happened. You guys were together for two years in high school and then nothing?” Liam asks as they sway in the hammock together that evening. 

“He was leaving. So I left first.” Harry answers and rolls out of the hammock. “You know this story, Li.” 

Liam looks surprised. “You broke up with him?”

“I'd gotten the job offer to nanny for mom's friend and I took it. There was no reason not to. I don't want to talk about it anymore, Li.” Harry stretches out on his back on the tabletop. “Can we go to the bar? I don't... I don't want to get drunk and I don't want to pick anyone up. I just want to have a few beers and listen to the band and eat chicken wings.”

“Yeah, man. Get dressed.”

They walk to the bar. Instead of changing clothes, Harry wears the same flip flops and swim trunks he's had on all day with a stretched out white t-shirt with holes in the neck and hem. Liam keeps looking at him out of the corner of his eye. Harry elbows him. “I'm fine.” 

They sit in their usual spot at the end of the bar. They're halfway through their second plate of wings when Harry sees him. His eyes go wide and his stomach drops when he glances over Liam's shoulder. “Shit.” 

Liam has no chill and whips his head completely around. He turns back to Harry. “He still looks good.”

Harry arches an eyebrow. “Stop.” He peeks around Liam’s shoulder again. “And here he comes. Alrighty then. Fuck.” He covers his eyes with his hand. He wishes for the power of invisibility. His wish doesn’t come true.

“Fancy running into you twice in one day, Harry.” 

Harry groans. Of course Louis thinks it's funny if he's the one saying it. “I'm sitting down. We didn't run into each other.” He rolls his eyes. 

Liam extends his hand, “Liam. ” Harry will thank him later for that. 

“Louis. Nice to see you again, Liam. I’m sure you remember Neil.” Louis gestures to the dark haired man at his side. 

“Hey, Niall.” Harry carefully pronounces his name as Liam shakes his hand. “Long time, no see.”

“Harry, how've ya been?” Niall asks and pulls Harry into a hug. “Thought you were in California or Colorado or someplace.”

“I was. Both, actually. Just moved back before summer to help Liam run the hut.”

Niall and Liam catch up over small talk as Louis and Harry quietly eye each other. Harry’s palms are sweaty and his heart is jackrabbiting in his chest. Louis is obvious as his gaze slowly travels up Harry’s body, taking in his flip flops, tanned legs, dirty swim trunks and torn t-shirt. He meets Harry's gaze with a cold stare. 

“Nice shirt.” Louis sneers. He tugs Niall’s arm. “Neil, leave these boys alone and let them eat their chicken.” Harry watches him walk away. 

He sighs and rubs a hand through his hair. “I'm gonna go home, Liam. This was a bad idea.” Harry stands and pulls some money from his shorts. “You stay and eat. I'm just, I want to be alone.”

Liam tilts his head to the side. “You sure? We can get these to go.”

“Yeah, man. Stay. I'll see you tomorrow.” Harry doesn't run for the exit, but it's close. 

He's halfway home when he hears footsteps coming up behind him and, thinking it's Liam, he spins around to tell him to go back to the bar. His heart stops. It's not Liam. 

“Why'd ya leave your boyfriend all alone at the bar?” Louis asks. He's panting slightly. 

“You're not my boyfriend, Lou.” The nickname slips out. He looks Louis in the eye. Shit. Still gorgeous. Then he realizes what he said and what Louis meant. “Liam?” He asks incredulously. “Not that it's any of your business, Louis, but Liam is my friend and my roommate. Not my boyfriend.” He spins back around and continues towards his house. 

“Whatever.” Harry hears as he walks away. “Asshole.” 

Harry freezes. What the fuck. He slowly turns to face his ex-boyfriend. “What's your problem, Louis? Why’re you chasing me down? Just to insult me? Why are you even here?”

“That's my shirt.” 

“Yeah, so what? It's comfortable.” 

“It's not yours. You shouldn't have it anymore. You can't wear it. It's mine.”

“I've been wearing it for like six years. It's not yours.” 

“No, it's mine. It was mine. You should've given it back. I want it back, Harry.”

Harry’s heart is in his throat. He can't believe this is happening. He rips the shirt over his head, balls it up, and throws it into the street. “There. It's yours, you fucker.” He takes off his flip flops and runs home as fast as he can. His bare feet strike the sidewalk, his legs burn from the effort, his heart pounds, and his lungs are screaming. He doesn't cry until he's in the shower. Fuck Louis. What an asshole. 

He steps out of the shower and is drying his hair when he hears someone incessantly banging on his front door. Goddamn it, Liam. Harry wraps the towel around his waist and stomps through the house, flings open the door to loudly remind Liam where their extra key is hidden, but for the second time that night, it's not Liam. 

Louis stands bathed in the moonlight. He says nothing as his eyes follow the water drops as they travel from Harry's shoulder, down his bare chest, over his tattoos, to the place where the towel is slung around his waist. He steps forward. Harry doesn't step back. They crash into each other. Harry's towel falls to the floor as he hefts Louis up and wraps his legs around his waist. Their tongues meet before their lips do. Harry's hands are holding Louis up by his ass and he's squeezing hard enough to hurt. The material of Louis’ jeans is rough against his bare skin. Their kisses are bruising, teeth bump together, they bite each other's lips roughly, as if they want to draw blood. 

Harry stumbles slightly as he carries Louis to his bedroom. Louis stops abusing his mouth and kisses down Harry's neck, biting hard, sucking, leaving mark after mark. They fall to the bed together. 

Harry traps him with his arms and legs and then covers Louis with his naked body. He grinds his hard cock against the denim that separates him from Louis’ soft skin. Harry growls and pins Louis’ arms above his head, holding them down with one hand. He shoves his shirt up with the other. He moves down Louis’ body, sucking and biting. Harry licks at a nipple, biting down hard as he fumbles with the button on Louis’ jeans. Louis whines and reaches down, undoes the button and zip and pushes them down as he kicks off his shoes. Harry takes over. Grabs the jeans and briefs and yanks them off roughly while Louis pulls his shirt off and throws it to the floor. 

Harry takes in the sight before him; Louis naked and laid out on his bed. Louis. Louis’ chest heaves and Harry’s heart stutters. His mind flashes back to reassuring smiles and soft giggles and bright blue eyes. He can't look at him anymore. Can't avoid looking at his eyes, the ones he used to know so well. Thought he knew, anyway. He shakes his head. 

His voice is gruff. “Roll over.” Louis stills. He rolls over. They've never done it like this. Harry tosses a condom and an almost empty bottle of lube onto the bed. “Ass up, Louis.” He won't call him Lou. Can't give him that. He fingers him efficiently, does what's necessary. One, two, three fingers because he wants to hurt Louis, but not like this. He wants to make him feel good, fuck him long and hard, make him scream with pleasure. He wants Louis to remember this like Harry remembers the way it used to be between them. He rolls on the condom, spreads the last of the lube on his dick and slowly presses all the way inside. Distantly, he hears a moan. Louis. He leans over and mouths at the back of his neck. Inhales his scent. 

They fuck. Harry gives it everything. Long, hard thrusts to start. His hands roughly grip Louis’ hips and squeeze. He wants to leave bruises. He wants Louis to feel him tomorrow. To see the evidence. To remember. He presses his hand between Louis’ shoulder blades, pushes him down to get a better angle. He feels like some sort of wild animal. He speeds up, fucking him faster. Quick, deep thrusts that, if Louis’ reactions are any indication, are hitting his spot more often than not. Louis meets every thrust, pushes back as much as he can with his face pressed into the pillow, grunts in time to the slap of Harry's balls. 

Harry's close. It's been weeks since he's been laid, but it's been years since he's had sex with Louis, and he's never fucked him like this. He slips his hand around Louis’ waist, wraps his fingers around his cock and sense memory takes over. He knows just how to touch Louis, how to twist his wrist, how to rub his thumb around the head and over the slit. He fucks into him and wanks him in time to his thrusts until Louis comes with a scream that’s barely muffled by the pillow. His muscles are tight around Harry and Harry's hips stutter; he groans and snarls as his orgasm rips through his body. 

Harry tries to catch his breath as he stares at the place where they’re connected. He closes his eyes and shakes his head. Refuses to look at Louis lying there sated and boneless on his bed. He pulls out, stumbles to the bathroom on shaking legs, shuts and locks the door. He tosses the condom in the trash can and splashes cold water on his face. His neck is a mess of bruises and bite marks. Proof that this really just happened. He dries his face and steels himself to face Louis. 

Harry returns to an empty bedroom and drops facedown on his bed. It smells like Louis. He shivers, then sits up and throws his pillow at the closed bedroom door. He doesn't bother checking the rest of the house. He pulls on an old pair of sweatpants, walks onto the porch and collapses into the hammock. He won't sleep in his room tonight, not with the smell of Louis still on his sheets and pillowcase.

~~~~~~~~~~

Harry wakes to Liam gently rocking the hammock while repeating his name. He topples out onto the porch floor. 

“Time to run.” Liam pulls him up to standing. Shorts, socks and shoes on and they're off. They walk for a few minutes to wake up their muscles and then take off once they hit the packed sand on the beach. They're silent through the first mile, then Liam tells him that he passed Louis as he was walking home from the bar last night. 

Harry hums in response. He's glad to know that Liam wasn't home to hear them fucking. Or to hear Louis leave immediately afterward. Though the marks on his neck are obvious. He keeps these thoughts to himself. They run on in silence. After the second mile, they touch the pier and turn around. The sun is coming up. The edges of the clouds are pink, then orange. The ocean reflects the morning light and as many times as he’s seen it, it’s still amazing to watch the sunrise. The beach is beautiful in the early morning. They finish their four miles and split up. Liam continues on to the hut to open and Harry goes home.

~~~~~~~~~~

A few weeks later, the city holds its annual ‘Keep Your Beach Beautiful’ walk that involves a lot of so-called important people talking and a crowd of volunteers carrying bags and picking up litter. All of the hut employees participate and Harry has been doing this for as long as he can remember. It’s just begun when Harry spots a familiar face in the crowd. His stomach lurches and he briefly considers leaving, but decides to think of the beach as his, like he did when he was a kid, like he does again, and he stays. 

It's not long before Louis is walking a few feet away, parallel to him. Harry ignores him. Louis doesn’t speak to him and Harry is fine with that. He's angry and sad and disappointed and so many things that he doesn't know where to begin, so he just picks up trash and puts it in his bag and pretends he's alone. Even though he can feel Louis near him. Senses his presence. Like he's some sort of extra limb or something. They spend the entire walk like that. Close, but not close enough to touch. Not talking. Not acknowledging each other's existence. 

When the mayor finishes her speech at the end, the crowd disperses. Harry stands still. It's so hot; he's tired and thirsty, and he has no idea where Liam is. He thinks that if he waits long enough, Louis will leave, but eventually it's just the two of them standing there. 

“What?” Harry turns on him. “Why are you here? Didn't you get what you wanted the other night?” Harry glares at him. “I'm not fucking you again, if that's what you're after.” 

“I...I don't know why I'm here, Harry. I thought, maybe we…. No. This was a mistake.” Louis shakes his head. “I'll go.” 

“Please do. Go. It's what you do, isn't it? Fuck you, Louis. God. Stay away from me.” Harry walks backwards down the beach towards the hut. 

“What the fuck is that supposed to mean? It's what I do? You're the one who left! Fuck me? Fuck you, asshole!”

“You literally left that night. I came out of the bathroom and you were gone. I wasn't even surprised. Like I said, it's what you do. Your M.O. or whatever.”

“You hid in the bathroom, Harry! You fucked me from behind and didn't say a word the whole time. You disappeared behind a locked door, so yeah, I left. I wasn't going to wait for you to tell me to get out. I went back to the bar to find Niall. And when the bartender overheard me telling Ni what happened? The actual phrase ‘fuck em and chuck em’ was used to describe you. So I don't know what you mean by M.O. but you're the one who fucking leaves or doesn't stick around or whatever. You apparently do it enough that it's common knowledge around here and you sure as shit did it four years ago!” 

“What I do, how I do it, and who I do it with stopped being your business years ago, Louis! So what if I have one night stands? I don't want a boyfriend! It's not worth it.”

“I don't know what I was thinking anyway. I should've known better. You cheated on me. That speaks volumes about the person you are.”

Harry's brain screeches to a halt. “I didn't cheat on you. We aren't even dating! What the hell are you talking about?”

“Are you kidding me with this shit?” Louis crosses his arms and glares at him. “Four years ago, you asshole. You cheated on me four years ago. Right after my senior year. You fucked off to New York with some guy.”

And... what? “I never cheated on you.”

“Yes. You did. We had planned to spend our last summer together and you up and moved to New York with some other guy, Harry! Don't lie about it. Your mom told me you were living with him! I went to Florida _for a weekend_ to look for off-campus housing with Niall, and when I got home, you were gone. Two years together and you broke up with me over the phone, you fucking coward. ”

“That's not. That's not what happened. I don't… I didn't cheat on you. Fuck. Fuck.” None of this makes sense. 

“Whatever, Harry. I should've known better. You broke my heart and I should never have come near you again. My mistake. I'm gonna…” he jerks his thumb over his shoulder. “I'm gonna go.”

Harry reaches for his arm and catches his sleeve. “Wait!” Louis stops. “Please, Louis, just, um, I need to… I broke your heart?”

“Fuck off.” Louis pulls his arm out of Harry's grasp. 

“No! Listen. Please. Can we walk? Will you please just listen for a minute? Let me talk?”

Louis closes his eyes. He sighs. “Fine.” He walks toward the ocean. Harry follows. They stop at the edge of the water, waves rolling in inches from their shoes. Both boys watch the sunlight reflecting off the waves instead of looking at each other. 

Harry takes a deep breath. There's an uneasy feeling churning in his stomach. “I never… I didn't cheat on you. That is some sort of fucked up misunderstanding. I don't know how things got twisted around, but no. I moved to New York to nanny for my mom’s friend. A straight friend. ” He risks a glance at Louis’ profile. 

Louis looks skeptical. “You literally left town without warning and broke up with me over the phone, Harry.” He shakes his head. 

“Do you know how many times you told me that was going to be our last summer together? I broke up with you, yeah, but we had an expiration date. I just moved it up a few months. Made it easier for myself. You were planning to leave after the summer, Lou, and that was going to be the end of us. I didn’t want to be left behind, so I took the nanny job in New York.”

“What? What do you mean ‘that was going to be the end of us’? I was going to Florida for school, Harry. Not moving to the moon. It was supposed to be our last summer together here!” He gestures wildly while he talks. Harry is speechless. Louis runs his fingers through his hair. “After that, I'd be in Florida and when you graduated, you'd go to Colorado like you planned, we'd be long distance, but we'd see each other on holidays and long weekends. Maybe we'd travel all summer or spend half of it in Colorado and the other half in Florida or part of it here or something! That wasn’t supposed to be the end of us. What the fuck?” 

Harry's hands cover his face. His mind is reeling. This is what shock feels like. He thinks he might be sick. “This is so fucked up. Oh my god. I'm so sorry. I... I've gotta go.” 

He runs. 

He runs the beach faster and harder than he does every morning. He needs to clear his head. He needs to empty his mind. He tries to focus on his breath, the cadence of his steps. Anything. He can't. He can't stop thinking of Louis. He runs. The boy he loved who left him. He runs faster. The boy he loved who he left. He runs harder. He fucked it all up. He slows down. Stops. He feels sick. Like really sick. Dizzy. He bends over and puts his hands on his knees. He throws up. He passes out.

~~~~~~~~~~

Harry wakes up in an uncomfortable bed in a bright room. Something’s beeping and it smells overwhelmingly like antiseptic. 

He blinks and his sister comes into focus. 

“Hey, jackass. Glad you're not dead. I'll get mom.” She flicks his forehead as she leaves. 

Harry remembers running. His mom opens the door. 

“Harry! You're awake. Oh my god, you scared me half to death!” She holds a straw to his lips. “Drink. The nurse is coming.”

He remembers running and stopping and feeling dizzy. 

“Harry, you're okay, you know. You had heatstroke. You passed out. But they said you'll be okay. The lifeguard was right there and she was able to bring your temperature down before the ambulance got there.” His mom gently placed her hand on his. 

He remembers throwing up. He closes his eyes. 

He remembers Louis. 

“I'm sorry, mom. I wasn't thinking. I usually run early in the morning. I needed to let off steam and didn't think. It was really hot today…” He can’t tell her about Louis yet. 

She brushes his hair off his forehead. “Get some rest. I'm going to call Liam. He's been texting me all afternoon.”

~~~~~~~~~~

They release Harry from the hospital that evening under orders to rest for a few days. His mom and sister drive him home. They offer to cook dinner, but he wants to order pizza. Liam is home in time to eat with them, but soon falls asleep on the couch. Running the hut by himself all day must have been exhausting. His mom straightens his room, starts his laundry and puts fresh sheets on his bed. Tells him to go to bed early. His family stays until just before dark. Harry waves goodbye from the porch, then clambers into the hammock. 

He hasn't been alone since he woke up at the hospital. He can’t stop thinking about Louis and their fight and what was said. He knows that he fucked it all up. He closes his eyes before the tears can fall. He sleeps. 

A soft whisper wakes him up. A cool hand touches his. Fingers comb through his hair. A thumb rubs the crease between his eyebrows. “Harry.” A voice that he knows. A voice that he'll always know. He opens his eyes. 

“What are you—”

“Hush and listen. It's my turn to talk. Okay?” Louis’ voice is quiet and calm.

Harry nods. 

“I went to the hut this afternoon looking for you. I kind of harassed Liam until he told me what happened. Today was pretty rough, huh?”

Harry nods. 

“I know you think you fucked it all up, but I fucked it up too. We were kids, Harry. I'm not mad anymore.” Louis looks to the side and flicks his hair across his forehead. “You know, I've had two serious boyfriends since you.”

Harry shakes his head and turns away. He doesn’t want to hear this, his stomach roils again. 

“Just listen.” Louis’ thumb brushes Harry’s cheek. “Two serious boyfriends, and a handful of less serious relationships, but they didn't go anywhere. None of them.”

Harry shakes his head again. “I never dated anyone seriously enough to call them my boyfriend. You were right, what you said about me. Fuck ‘em and chuck ‘em. I'm sorry. You don't have to say anything else. You can go.”

“No, Harry. Why didn't any of my relationships go anywhere? Why did I search you out at the bar? Why did I follow you home? Let you fuck me? We'd never even done that before. Why did I show up at the beach clean up when I knew you’d be there?”

Harry shakes his head. 

“I want you. Still. Always. I've been in love with you since high school, Harry.”

That doesn’t make any sense. “No. No, you hate me.”

“I hated the person I thought you'd become, Harry. But you were never him. It's strange. I thought about it all day. It's why I came to the hut looking for you. I loved you so much and when I thought you'd cheated on me, it fucked me up. I thought I knew you, ya know? How could I have been so wrong? But I wasn't. You're still the boy I loved then. I still love you, Harry.”

Harry nods his head. Tears slip out of his eyes, even though they're squeezed shut. Louis kisses his forehead. Smooths his hair back. 

“Harry? I think you ought to be in a real bed. You're supposed to be resting. Come on, I'll help you inside.” 

Louis stands and offers his hand, Harry takes it and carefully climbs out of the hammock. They make their way to Harry's bedroom. Louis tucks him in and turns on the ceiling fan. He gently places another kiss on Harry's forehead, switches off the light and turns to go. 

Harry watches him. He's so beautiful. Always so beautiful. “Stay? Please? Um, just to sleep, I mean.”

Louis nods, strips to his underwear, and slips into bed next to Harry. They snuggle up together, the way they used to. The way neither had been able to do with anyone else. Harry wiggles backward into Louis’ embrace, and Louis holds him tightly. They drift off to sleep.

The End

**Author's Note:**

> I live for comments and kudos are lovely ❤️ 
> 
> If you'd like, you can reblog [this Tumblr post](http://fullonlarrie.tumblr.com/post/155456462110/running-over-thoughts) :)
> 
> If you liked it, check out [my other fics](http://archiveofourown.org/works?utf8=%E2%9C%93&commit=Sort+and+Filter&work_search%5Bsort_column%5D=word_count&work_search%5Bother_tag_names%5D=&work_search%5Bquery%5D=&work_search%5Blanguage_id%5D=&work_search%5Bcomplete%5D=0&user_id=FullOnLarrie).


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